Drowning by Fire
by prophet-of-troy
Summary: Rose Potter has a much different journey destined for her than that of her brother, Harry. Parts may be alongside his, but then she'll have to choose her own path. Even if it goes against her brother. Even if he doesn't understand it. And, perhaps, especially if she doesn't either.
1. Rose

Chapter one: Rose

Cold was the morning Rose woke up on her only cousin's eleventh birthday, a chilly Saturday morning in March. She groaned and rolled over, blinking a few times and scratching lightly at the scar on her wrist before sitting up. Tossing her duvet aside, she swung her legs around to get out of bed. She regretted the decision almost immediately, but resisted the urge to crawl back in her warm bed. She hummed to herself as she dressed, wearing a dress she hadn't worn yet from an old box her aunt had given her- hand-me-downs from her aunt's childhood, with a peter pan collar and little sunflowers scattered.

Harry was up before her, obviously not having slept well the night before, and trying desperately not to burn the eggs. A feat, that she could tell by the smell, was not accomplished. She sighed and took the pan from him to start a new batch.

"Harry, why didn't you sneak up to my room? You look terrible."

"And risk getting you into trouble?" He asked incredulously. "Smart, Rosie, real smart."

Rose knew it bothered him, the difference in how they were treated, but he would never say so. She hated it too. It made her feel guilty to see him blamed for everything that went wrong and punished in ridiculous ways, though, whenever she did something to get in trouble, Aunt Petunia was there to her rescue. Rose stayed in the spare room upstairs, Harry was cramped in the cupboard under the stairs.

"I could have handled it," she insisted quietly, moving the finished eggs to a plate.

"You mean Aunt Petunia would have handled it."

She flinched and looked away, not understanding what had gotten into him today, as she moved out of the kitchen to put food on the breakfast table where Uncle Vernon was already sitting- glaring at her over the top of his newspaper.

"Rose," he greeted stiffly.

She carefully stayed away from him. "Good morning, Uncle Vernon."

He grunted out an acknowledgment. "Get me my coffee, girl."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Aunt Petunia _did_ always get Rose out of trouble, but that only made Dudley and Uncle Vernon hate her more- if that was possible- and therefore did the best they could to punish her without Petunia finding out. It was always in Rose's best interest to stay out of their way, so she quickly went to get the coffee pot and make his coffee perfectly.

And then, she just _had_ to trip and spill half of it, dripping over her fingers and scalding Uncle Vernon's lap. She could have screamed. What did she trip on? There was nothing there! Uncle Vernon jumped out of his chair with a holler and moved like he was going to back hand her until Aunt Petunia's voice was heard.

"Vernon!" She exclaimed desperately. "I'm sure it was just an accident, right, Rose?"

Rose nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sorry."

He grumbled, looking back to his wife and cutting Rose a glare as he went back upstairs to change.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said nearly an hour later, in an entirely different tone of voice. "Mrs. Figg's gone and broke her leg, said something about rocks in her driveway, she can't watch them."

She glanced worriedly to Rose as Rose glared at Dudley, knowing exactly who was responsible for the rocks in Mrs. Figg's drive. Uncle Vernon pinched his face up in silent rage, his face getting a dark red that was still better than the purple it could have been.

"We could phone Marge," he suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."

"What about your friend- Yvonne?"

But everyone they could think of was busy or not an option. Vernon refused to leave them home or in the new car at the zoo. It looked as though Rose and Harry were going to the zoo, despite Dudley's crying. His friend Piers arrived and they all headed out to the car.

Rose saw Uncle Vernon glance to Petunia to be sure she was preoccupied before pulling her and Harry aside. "I'm warning you now. Any funny business, anything at all, and you'll be in that cupboard from now to Christmas."

He'd been addressing Harry, but the look he gave Rose was enough to tell her to use her imagination.

* * *

It never got much warmer and despite knowing Aunt Petunia would have been appalled and made her change, Rose wished she had tried to sneak out in trousers. The cold didn't stop Dudley from wanting ice cream though, and he and Piers each received a chocolate cone. The woman looked over and asked she and Harry what they would like, but Aunt Petunia interrupted.

"Strawberry," she said quietly. "Strawberry is her favorite."

Rose didn't know what her aunt was talking about. She had never had ice cream, much less, _strawberry._ How would it be her favorite? But Aunt Petunia was very pointedly not looking at her. So, Rose and Harry got strawberry ice cream, finishing them as the Dursleys lead the way to the Reptile Room. There was still and tension between her and her brother that she didn't understand, but she tried to respect it.

"Make it move," Dudley whined near a large tank where there lay a large snake napping happily on a sunbathed rock. Or, it was meant to look like a sunbathed rock, but Rose knew it was just special lighting and synthetic warmth.

Uncle Vernon knocked against the glass with his knuckles, but there was no movement she could see. Dudley banged his fist against the glass, but still, nothing. He groaned and moved on to the next encasement where a medium sized lizard awaited to be terrorized. Rose followed behind Harry as he moved to talk to the snake, but enough away that he wouldn't notice. It was funny, he was so off today. First, he got upset with her that morning, hadn't talked to her since, and now he was making strange hissing noises. Then, as she walked over to see what was different today, Dudley and Piers ran over to knock Harry away from the glass where the snake had _actually_ been responding.

Then it happened. The glass vanished and if Rose hadn't been watching it herself, she wouldn't have believed it. Harry was doing it again. They had agreed between them not to lose their tempers anymore. Bad things happened when they lost their tempers.

"Harry, are you okay?" She asked him as she tried to help him up and away from the snake that had just slithered past.

The tension that had been between them dissipated and he nodded, still staring after the loose reptile. He grabbed her hand where she would swear her scar warmed and they watched as Dudley became stuck in the tank that had been previously occupied.

* * *

"HOW DARE YOU!" Uncle Vernon shouted as soon as Piers left, shoving Harry into the wall hard. "After all that we have done for you, this is how you repay us?!"

Rose tried to run over to them, but Petunia kept a strong grip on her shoulders. She seemed to be shaking. Dudley was deathly silent. Rose jerked out of her aunt's reach and stood in front of her brother as Vernon moved to back hand Harry. He instead got her, making her fall and Aunt Petunia to shriek.

"Stop, Vernon! Please."

Uncle Vernon glared at Rose, his face purple, until he grabbed Harry to push him into his cupboard. Rose was pulled up the stairs to her room where Aunt Petunia fussed over her with tears in her eyes. She left her on the bed as her aunt went to get a cold and wet rag for Rose's busted lip.

When she returned, Rose was looking out of her window that faced Mrs. Figg's house. She could see one of the strange woman's many cats in the living room window, rubbing against the glass. Petunia pulled Rose back over to the bed and made her sit down. Rose hissed the first time the rag touched her lip, still tender.

"You can't keep provoking him like that," Aunt Petunia scolded. "I can't keep protecting you like this."

"What about my brother?" Rose asked, her voice a little higher.

Aunt Petunia frowned, refolding the rag to brush against her swollen lip again. "Don't raise your voice to me."

Rose slapped her hand away lightly. "You do all you can to keep _me_ out of trouble, but you let your son and husband do whatever they want to my brother? What kind of a person is that?"

"He's a bad influence! You never understood that, Lily!"

"I'm not Lily!" Rose shouted.

Aunt Petunia looked stricken by these words, recoiling away from her. She stood abruptly, one hand over her heart and the other holding the rag that she was squeezing so hard water was dripping over her fingers.

"You're right," she whispered. Then she hastily left the room to her own where Rose heard the door slam.

Later that night, Rose snuck downstairs, carefully stepping over the creaky bottom stair, and unlocked Harry's cupboard. He was on his cot and nursing a similar lip to hers and a bruise on his cheek. He looked up when she opened the door, but said nothing as she pulled him by the hand to her room. She shut the door behind them.

"Are you okay?" She asked him.

"I'm sorry about this morning," he told her. "I don't know what came over me. I love you."

She climbed up to perch on the end of her bed. "I love you too, Harry. I'm sorry he hurt you. Are you okay?"

He nodded and hugged his knees. "What happened up here with you? Did she help your lip?"

Rose remembered the somewhat haunted look on her aunt's face and shivered. "Lily," she whispered. "Aunt Petunia called me Lily. I think... I think it might have been our mother's name. Maybe that's why they treat me different. Maybe, maybe _you_ don't look like her, but I do."

She thought back to the dream she often had of the young woman who looked like her. She had the same red hair and green eyes. Rose's bright green eyes, that looked almost too big for her face, were the only things she shared with her twin brother apart from stature.

"That doesn't explain why they hate me so much," Harry mumbled.

No. It didn't.

* * *

Nothing of import happened again for many months until after their last day of school and Rose came downstairs to an awful stench. She followed it to the kitchen where Aunt Petunia stood over a metal tub in the sink, stirring something. She wondered if she was trying to cook again. That was never a good thing.

"What is that, Aunt Petunia?" She asked. Her aunt had been more or less ignoring her existence since the outburst in Rose's room.

"It's your brother's new uniform. I'm dying some of Dudley's old clothes gray. It'll be just like everyone else's when I've finished and then you and I need to go pick up yours."

Dudley and Piers were accepted into Smeltings, the old private school Uncle Vernon had attended. Rose and Harry were off to Stonewall High School together, the first time they would be able to get away from Dudley and his gang.

"I didn't realize it had to be so wet," Rose couldn't help but say.

Aunt Petunia glared. "Just go wake Harry."

Harry was already awake and at the table, as were Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Rose had been careful to avoid them as best she could since the incident on Dudley's birthday. This included Harry taking blame once for when Rose burned a batch of biscuits meant for Dudley and his friends. This did _not_ include Dudley and his friends chasing her through the neighborhood while Harry was given extra chores for the burned biscuits.

She heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," Uncle Vernon said from behind his morning paper.

"Make Harry do it," her cousin grumbled.

"Get the mail, Harry."

Harry threw it back, "Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smeltings stick, Dudley."

Rose stood from the table on that note. "I'll go get it," she said, avoiding the glare from her uncle.

A postcard lay on the doormat from Vernon's sister, Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wright; as well as some bill from the gas company and two letters addressed to she and her brother. She frowned heavily and ran her eyes over the words several more times. That was ridiculous. Who would be writing to them? Obviously, the same person was writing to the both of them. The envelope was heavy, made of heavy paper the color of cream.

"Hurry up, girl!" Uncle Vernon's voice trailed down the hallway.

She glanced back to be sure no one was there and then back to the envelopes in her hand. If they knew Harry got one, they'd never let him have it. They'd burn it or something. Rose bit her lip and stuffed her brother's letter in the waist band of her pants. She pulled her shirt over it as best she could and went back to the kitchen. She handed the first two to Uncle Vernon and sat down with hers, glancing to Harry with a secret look she hoped he understood.

"Rose has got a letter!" Dudley shouted, snatching it out of her hand and holding it up high above her head, waving it around. She was too short to try jumping for it, and they might see Harry's letter if she did.

"Dudley," Aunt Petunia said, taking the letter from his hands much gentler than he had to Rose. "Don't snatch things from people."

Then she glanced down at the letter she now held and froze- her face much like it had been when Rose shouted at her months ago. A moment passed and Rose could see she was shaking.

"Vernon," she gasped with a hoarse voice. "It's from _them_."

Vernon's face went red to his neck and he stood from the table, his belly moving the table over. "Out," he said. "All three of you. Go to your rooms."

"What is it?" Rose asked. She was now glad that she had hid Harry's. They seemed identical aside from their first initials and their rooms. Whatever hers said, it stood to reason that's what his would say. "It's _my_ letter."

"DO NOT TALK BACK TO ME!" Vernon bellowed, making Rose shrink into herself and glance to Petunia for a reaction. But Aunt Petunia was still staring at the letter as though she'd been handed the apocalypse.

Rose felt someone grab her hand and looked to see Harry trying to pull her out of the dining area and into the hall where Dudley stood... pouting.

"What's the letter about?" He demanded.

"Well it's not like I got a chance to read it," she snarled.

A moment later Aunt Petunia came into the hall, having obviously been crying. She had her purse slung over her shoulder and a fake smile plastered to her face.

"Rose, how about you go upstairs and get dressed. Then you and I will go get your uniforms for Stonewall."

"What was in the letter," she asked suspiciously.

The smile was wiped from Petunia's face. "You," she said in a direct tone that Rose had only ever heard her take with Harry, "will never mention that letter again. Do I make myself clear?"

Rose almost argued, but she felt the roughness of the envelope's paper against her stomach and thought differently. She would find out anyway. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Once she was upstairs, Rose pulled up the corner of her mattress and slid the letter under it for safe keeping until she returned. It wouldn't do for her to get into more hot water with her aunt and uncle for asking about it, when she was obviously in trouble just for having it sent to her. _Tonight_ , she thought to herself. _Tonight, Harry and I will read his._

* * *

That night, Rose waited an hour after she heard her aunt and uncle turn in for the night before slipping out her bedroom door with the letter. She could hear Dudley snoring through the thin wall between their rooms. She walked as carefully as she could down the steps and around to the cupboard that was surprisingly unlocked. Harry was asleep. Rose sighed and shook him violently until he jerked upright, banging his forehead with hers. She groaned and sat back on her heels, holding her now throbbing head.

"Harry!" She whisper scolded.

He was held his own forehead, rubbing the spot. He turned on the light and she could see a red spot on his skin next to his scar. "Rose! What are you doing in here?"

She held out the letter to him with a grin. "It's yours," she said excitedly. "There were two letters this morning so I hid yours in case they wouldn't let you keep it. They were written by the same person, I think. The envelopes and the writing were the same. Whatever mine said, yours will say."

Harry's eyes widened at the envelope she held in her hands. "It has my cupboard on it!"

"It's yours," she told him, holding it out. He took it gingerly as though it would disintegrate in his hands. She nudged him. "Go on, open it. I want to see what it says."

He popped the purple seal, which displayed a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Then he slowly slid the letter out, slow enough that she just wanted to snatch it back and get it over with.

"Dear Mr. Potter," he read aloud just above a whisper. "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

He stopped and they both frowned. Was this a joke? No, that wouldn't explain Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's reactions. Rose took the letter to read the sentence herself and it was as he read. She continued.

"Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on the first of September. We await your owl by no later than the thirty first of July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall- deputy headmistress." Rose looked to the top of the letter to the Headmaster's name. Supreme Mugwump?

"What does it mean, await our owl?" He asked

She frowned at him. "That's your question?"

He ignored her question and held up the second page to read from. "First years will require three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain black pointed hat for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)."

"Dragon hide?" Rose asked incredulously with something akin to an awed smile.

"One winter cloak, black with silver fastenings. Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags. Hey, Rose, look at the course books."

Rose scooted closer where they could both look. There it was, Standard Book of Spells. A History of Magic. Magical Theory. "What does this mean?" She whispered.

"It has to be some sort of a joke," he said. "That's it. A joke."

"I don't know anyone that creative," she pointed out.

He suddenly grinned. "Wouldn't it be wicked? If we could escape to a world of magic? Imagine, being able to curse Dudley and his gang- curse the Dursley's."

"But not Aunt Petunia," she interrupted.

He looked like he wanted to disagree, but he nodded. "Okay, not Aunt Petunia."

"Dragons," she smiled. "Dragons could be real. Dragons and witches and bubbling cauldrons. Think of the adventures we would have."

"What if it is," he asked. "Things happen to us, strange things. It could explain their reactions. If it was a joke, why did they look so scared?"

Rose frowned to herself. She wasn't sure what to think, but maybe- maybe they could find out more. Maybe someone would know.

* * *

Harry kept the letter in his cupboard with him when she finally returned to her room to sleep. She had dreams that didn't last long enough of what a world of magic could be like. Would witches have green skin like Wizard of Oz? She already could deduce they wore pointed hats.

When the mail came the next day, Uncle Vernon told Dudley to get it. He had said nothing to neither Harry or Rose aside from asking Rose to pass the jam. Harry and Rose shared a look, especially when they heard Dudley's voice shout, "There's another one! And Harry's got one too! Mr. H Potter, the Cupboard Under the Stairs."

Uncle Vernon leapt out of his chair and down the hall with Harry and Rose right behind him. The letter they had read was so odd, she wanted to know if they all said that. Were they all the same? They fought. Or rather, Harry, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon wrestled for the letters until Uncle Vernon pulled away triumphantly.

"Everyone go. Just... go."

He didn't wait to see what they said, but went back to the breakfast area and slammed the doors to cut Rose, Harry and Dudley off. Dudley shoved Harry and Rose aside to press his ear at the door. Harry helped Rose up and they followed suit, only catching bits of the conversation.

"They know where he sleeps," Aunt Petunia's voice said. "Could they be watching the house?"

"Watching," Uncle Vernon said wildly. "Spying... might be following us!"

Rose lay on her stomach to look and listen at the crack between the door and floor. She could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pace. Aunt Petunia's heels seemed to be frozen in place. "What should we do? Should we write them back? Tell them that we don't want-"

"No," Uncle Vernon interrupted. "We'll ignore them. Yes.. if they don't get an answer-"

"But-"

"I won't have them in the house, Petunia!" He shouted. "Didn't we swear when we took them in that we'd put a stop to that dangerous nonsense? Harry and Rose-"

"It isn't her fault," Aunt Petunia cried. "Please, it isn't her. He's the bad influence just like-"

Uncle Vernon's shoes started towards the closed door and Rose scrambled away, pulling Harry away from the door as well. It opened and his breathing was in pants as he had over exerted himself.

"Dudley, go play. You too, Rose."

Rose went to refuse and ask about the letters, but she could see Aunt Petunia behind Uncle Vernon, shaking her head. Rose closed her mouth and went over to her aunt.

"You look nice in your dress," Petunia forced out. "Let's you and me go get you a new one."

Rose didn't understand the sudden change. Uncle Vernon looked as though he were attempting to smile at Harry and Petunia was smiling at her. She and Aunt Petunia were somewhat closer than the rest of the family, but not like this. Was she trying to keep Rose's mind off of the letters? She had to talk to Harry. They had learned more after reading the letter and hearing their relatives conversation.

But the look on her aunt's face was so desperate. Rose looked back to Harry, who nodded.

"Okay," she said slowly.

* * *

They bought Rose a new dress. Then Aunt Petunia insisted on another. And another. After they left the dress shop, Aunt Petunia took Rose to lunch where she let Rose choose whatever she wanted to eat. She felt guilty for enjoying the day, all the while being suspicious of it. Aunt Petunia had never showed her _this_ much affection, always having been careful to show Dudley more. This was rivaling the attention Dudley got.

When they returned home, there was a second bed in Rose's bedroom, much smaller than hers but still better than a cot. And Harry sat on it, holding a book of Dudley's that was on a bookshelf in the room.

"Uncle Vernon told me to move up here with you," he explained. "Probably because the letter had the cupboard on it."

"That's great," she grinned. Then she didn't. "Aunt Petunia seemed really scared today."

She sighed and set her bags down. Harry scooted over to make room for her. "Maybe... maybe the letter was real. They were acting like it could be."

"I don't know," she answered. "But, what can we do? Uncle Vernon said they could be watching the house. And, they resent the letters. Maybe they'll keep at it until we find out the truth."

Maybe.

* * *

The letters kept coming. Uncle Vernon had taken to sleeping in front of the door to prevent them from getting one. Then, he boarded up the mail slot. It didn't stop them. Letters were slipped under the door, slotted in the sides, and even stuffed in a small window downstairs. Uncle Vernon then boarded up all the cracks in the doors and windows that he could find. Letters were burned, ripped, and some even pushed through a food processor. Letters came rolled up and hidden inside eggs.

Then... the day of the fireplace happened. Throughout this entire ordeal, Rose and Harry stayed up late imagining this fantasy world. Harry wanted ghosts. Rose wanted mermaids. Harry wondered if three course meals could come in candy. Rose thought of trees that could talk, plants that could tell you how much water they needed, flowers that could sing you lullabies.

Aunt Petunia smothered Rose in affection; baking biscuits together, teaching Rose how to cross stitch, how to sew, how to crochet. She spent time in the mornings helping Rose with her hair. Rose couldn't help but wonder what her aunt was trying to do. Why she was trying to hold on to her so tightly.

But on Sunday, Uncle Vernon had just commented about the absence of post when no less than fifty letters came shooting from the fireplace. Harry had jumped in the air hoping to grab one only to be dragged away by Uncle Vernon, tossed into the hall way. Rose had knelt down in hopes of getting one that had already landed on the floor. Aunt Petunia grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out into the hallway behind Uncle Vernon, Harry and Dudley.

They took a moment to breathe, the paper cuts on Rose's face stinging. Uncle Vernon huffed for a few moments before saying suddenly, "That does it. I want you all back here in five minutes, ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

It felt like something was coming. That the raging storm of the letters and the mystery surrounding them were coming to an end. She and Harry bounded upstairs to gather their things. Rose watched as Harry was sure to pack the letter under his meager pile of clothing. Rose packed all of her clothes and her blanket with the cross stitch Aunt Petunia had been helping her with. Ten minutes later, they all piled into the car to leave Private Drive.

* * *

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the Potters," a woman said the next morning at breakfast.

They had driven all day the day before, not stopping once to eat or rest. No one dared ask where they were going or what they were doing. No one said anything aside from incoherent muttering on Uncle Vernon's part. Occasionally, Aunt Petunia would send a worried look into the backseat at Rose, but she was always quick to turn back around when Rose saw it.

They had finally, after whining from Dudley, stopped at an inn on the outskirts of some big city. Harry and Dudley shared a musty room with two twin beds, and in another room with two twin beds, Uncle Vernon took one and Aunt Petunia insisted on sharing the other with Rose.

The woman who approached them, who turned out to be the owner, held two familiar letters in her hand. "It's only that, I've about a 'undred of these at the front desk."

They left quickly after that, driving even more madly than the day before. Uncle Vernon would stop somewhere, the middle of a forest, a plowed field, or halfway across a suspension bridge. He would get out, glance around, shake his head, and get back in the car for them to keep going. They finally drove to the coast as it began to rain. He locked them all in the car and walked off.

"If anything happens," Aunt Petunia said, not looking at anyone in particular, "anything strange, stay behind me. Just, stay with me."

The last bit was whispered and Rose wasn't sure who she was talking to. When Uncle Vernon returned, he had a long thin box and a beaming face that made Rose nervous. He had everyone get out of the car and pointed up to a hut on a rock just away from shore. Uncle Vernon ushered them into a rowboat ferried by a toothless old man. The rain was harsh, and icy, but Uncle Vernon never lost the mad grin.

The inside of the sad little house smelled moldy and wet. Uncle Vernon gave each of them a bag of chips and a banana, using the trash from it to start a fire.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he asked over his shoulder in a teasing matter.

Rose was sure that she very nearly hated him in that moment.

He stayed in a good mood through nightfall when a great storm raged outside. There was no way someone could get a letter to them now. Rose was saddened by this thought until she remembered the letter at the bottom of Harry's bag. Still, it was _Harry's_ letter. Not hers. Aunt Petunia found some moldy blankets and distributed them before she and Uncle Vernon turned in for the night in the only bedroom.

* * *

Long after everyone else was asleep, Harry and Rose pulled out the letter and reread it again as they had each night since they got it, just to reinforce that it was real. Even if they still remained unsure about the legitimacy of the contents. Then, when Dudley's glow in the dark watch read midnight, Harry drew a cake in the dirt floor of the shack with eleven candles.

"Happy Birthday, Rosie," he whispered to her.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she whispered back.

And they both blew the dirt cake away with the same wish in their minds. A wish, that wasn't a wish, but more of a feeling. That something would happen. Anything. And then... it did.

 **A/N: Okay, so, I know there are a lot of 'Harry has a sister' stories. But, I feel like if Lily had had a daughter that looked like Lily, Petunia would have treated her different that they did Harry. Despite everything, Petunia loved her sister. In this I think of it as Petunia looking at Rose as a surrogate for Lily. A chance to re do and fix her relationship with her sister. So, here it happened. Petunia loves Rose. This will trend will continue through all of the books and I will be continuing this story to the end. Tell me what you think. She will end up with Draco. I think. I am almost positive about that. I have plans for her character and her relationships and events that will happen.**

 **THIS IS STILL HARRY'S STORY! This is just Rose's story alongside and in the background of his. She will not have the same wand core as he and Voldemort. She will not be a Chosen One. She will not be entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament with him. She will have friends outside of he and his. This is Rose's story, but still Harry's quest and journey.**

 **Dasvidanya, Juliet.**


	2. Hagrid

Chapter Two: Hagrid

The dust from their wish had yet to settle when there came a banging at the door. Rose jumped, and after the second bang, she and Harry scrambled to their feet. Another and Dudley woke up.

"Where's the cannon?" He asked groggily.

Another. Uncle Vernon skidded into the room with a rifle and a moment later, Aunt Petunia was behind him. Her frantic blue eyes found Rose's green ones and Rose remembered what she said in the car. To stand behind her. She wanted to, she had the urge to, but she couldn't walk away from Harry. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you wanted to look at it, her brother took the decision away from her. Harry grabbed her arm and pushed her into the corner next to the fire place where she wouldn't be seen. But there wasn't enough room for him.

"Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted. "I warn you, I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then-

SMASH!

The door swung clean off its hinges and fell to the ground with a deafening sound, dirt blowing up in a cloud. A massive form, that she was able to make out as a man, stood in its place with a massive beard. It was a wild, tangled mess that seemed to almost cover the entirety of his face aside from his forehead, cherry cheeks, and glittering black eyes. Rose's eyes widened. She had never seen anyone so huge.

He squeezed his way through the doorway, having to duck his head. He bent down to pick up the door and fit it back into its frame before turning around and saying, "Sorry 'bout that."

His voice was... was that Scottish? He turned around to face all of them with a cheerful grin. The storm outside seemed to be on a pause, as did the rest of the world. It was as if there was nothing outside of the rundown shack they were in. There was nothing and it was just the six of them.

"I demand you leave at once," Uncle Vernon said in an imperious tone. "You are breaking and entering!"

The stranger took one step, that Rose wasn't sure she could make in three, to stand in front of Uncle Vernon. "Dry up, Dursley, you great prune." And he grabbed the end of the rifle, jerking it up to point at the ceiling.

At this, Uncle Vernon sort of whimpered, Aunt Petunia shrieked, and Harry situated himself to stand in front of Rose. But she could still see. The stranger turned around to look at Harry and Dudley. "Harry," he said in his gruff voice. "You look just like yer father."

That was it, something said in the back of Rose's mind. That was why Aunt Petunia hated him and not Rose. Rose looked like her mother. Harry looked like their father.

He shoved a hand into the pocket of his giant coat, water droplets from the storm still rolling off of it, and pulled out a small, somewhat squished box. Then he handed it to Harry. "Made you two summat fer yer birthday. 'Fraid I mighta sat on it at some point, but I imagine it'll taste fine jus' the same." Then he stopped and looked around.

"Where's Rose?" The stranger asked in a confused tone.

A sharp sound came from Aunt Petunia and Harry tensed. "Who?"

"Yer sister," he said. "What do you mean, who?"

Rose nudged Harry aside and stepped forward. The man's eyes widened. "'e looks like James," he said. "But yer the spittin' image o' yer mother. I'd swear t' Merlin I was lookin' at her."

The stranger moved towards the couch, scaring Dudley into trying to shrink into the wall, and sat down. Then he pulled out a pink umbrella that looked as though it had seen better days, aimed it at the fireplace, and with a _zap_ \- there was a roaring fire.

Rose jumped, glanced to Aunt Petunia, and then back. He just did magic. It looked like magic. Her father's name was James. James and Lily. Lily and James. Somehow, even if she had never seen their faces before that she could remember, knowing their names made them real. At one point, she and Harry had parents, and their names were James and Lily. "You know who we are, and you obviously knew our parents, but who are you?"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. O' course, you know all about Hogwarts."

There it was. He said it. He knew about Hogwarts, about the letters. Their parents. No one ever talked about their parents. Harry had already shaken his head to the man saying they knew about Hogwarts. "Sorry, no."

"Blimey! Didn't yeh ever wonder where yer mum and dad learned it all?" Learned. Hogwarts was a school. Did that mean their parents were- "Yer a wizard, Harry. Rose too, though she's technically a witch. Powerful, I'd wager, once yeh've trained up a bit. Yer parents were two of the best."

Aunt Petunia sniffed a bit from her spot at Uncle Vernon's side, though, she had taken a step towards them. Guilt was as plain on her face as the hair on Hagrid's chin. "You knew," Rose whispered. "You knew and you never said anything. That's what all that bonding was about."

She knew it had been suspicious, that she was hiding something, but it stung worse than she had expected it too. This was a lot more than just a letter if this Hagrid was to be believed, though, she'd already made the decision to keep an open mind after his tremendous umbrella display.

"Of course I knew," Aunt Petunia said in a sad scoff, her arms crossed defensively and refusing to make eye contact. There was apparently something fascinating about a chip in the wood of the windowless wall. "My perfect sister being what she was, how could I not?"

She turned to Hagrid with glistening eyes. "One of the best, you say? Well, it didn't keep her from getting herself blown up, did it? She got her letter at eleven, she and that-that-that _scoundrel_ and ran off to that blasted school. She'd come home every vacation with jumping candy in her pockets, turning perfectly good tea cups into rats. I was the only one to see her for what she was... a freak."

Her voice broke on the last syllable and she turned her head to try and bury her face in her shoulder- once again focusing on that chip in the wood.

"Blown up?" Rose asked; heartbreak, hurt and betrayal evident enough in her trembling voice that Aunt Petunia flinched. Harry looked like he was about to have steam blow out of his ears. "You told us our parents died in a car crash."

"CAR CRASH?!" Hagrid bellowed suddenly, jumping off of the poor, old couch with much more speed than she was sure Uncle Vernon could have mustered. "Car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal!"

"We had to tell them something," Aunt Petunia defended weakly in a monotone voice.

Hagrid suddenly paled. "I never expected- I mean- Dumbledore said yeh might be hard ter find. That it might be a bit difficult. But, we never expected- for you to know nothing of our world- your parents world- _your_ world! It's- every child in our world know yer names... and fer yeh not ter know yer own story- I don't think I'm the right person to tell yeh this."

"This is ridiculous," Uncle Vernon said, in a sudden and foolish bout of bravery. "Because they'll _not_ be going. We swore when we took them in that we'd put a stop to all this nonsense."

Nonsense, she remembered he'd called it upon the second day of letters. Dangerous nonsense.

Hagrid snorted. "An' I'd like ter see a great Muggle like yerself try ter stop them."

"A what?" Harry asked. Rose was still looking at her aunt.

"It's what we call non-magic folk," Hagrid explained. "An' it's just yer luck that yeh've been raised by the biggest Muggles I've ever seen. 'They're not going'," he mocked.

But Rose saw Aunt Petunia flinch when he said that. Rose looked away from her and to Hagrid who, in the time she had been preoccupied with her inner emotions, had made himself a cup of tea from unseen resources. "What happened to our parents?" She asked firmly.

"Don't think I'm the right person ter tell yeh," Hagrid mumbled under his breath. "But someone's got ter. It wouldn't be right fer yeh ter go ter 'Ogwarts without knowin'."

He took a deep breath and settled into the couch more, making the springs groan. He clutched the delicate looking tea cup to him and as he sat back, the dancing fire made long shadows play across his face in contrast with the paleness that had taken up residence there at the thought of what he had to do.

"Firs', yeh two should know that not all wizards are good," he started darkly. Rose found her gaze drifting to the fire as she listened, watching the flames lick the air to disappear and reappear somewhere else. "Years ago, one wizard went as bad as you _can_ go."

"What was his name?" She heard Harry ask.

"No one likes ter say it- people are still scared, yeh see. It was..."

"Maybe if you tried writing it down."

She felt like their voices were so far away, or like she was underwater. Perhaps they were underwater and their voices were the only thing holding her to the Earth. Like the pins on a set of butterfly wings.

"Nah, can't spell it. Alright. His name was... Voldemort."

She felt a shudder. That was the name of the man who killed her parents. Voldemort. _She_ could say it. She wasn't afraid.

"Anyway, this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. An' 'e got 'em too. People lining up to get a taste of his power. These were dark days, Harry. Never knowin' who ter trust. Didn' dare get friendly with a strange witch or wizard lest they were on 'is side. Terrible. Some people stood up ter him, and 'e killed 'em. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was e'er 'fraid of. Didn't dare try to take the school.

"Yer mum and dad were on Dumbledore's side. Always wondered why 'e never tried to recruit 'em, but I suppose 'e knew they were too close ter Dumbledore to turn against him. An' what with Lily bein' Muggleborn. All anyone knows is he turned up in the village yeh all were living in on Halloween. You an' Rose only a year old."

He stopped to blow his nose and Rose turned to look, spots in her vision from staring at the fire. The Dursleys were all silent and still, listening to the story. Aunt Petunia hadn't moved, but through Rose's spotty vision, she thought she saw her aunt's shoulders shaking with silent tears.

"You-Know-Who killed 'em," Hagrid sniffed. "An' then, this is the myst'ry, he tried ter kill _you_ , Harry. Wanted ter make a clean job o' it I suppose, kill them and then you an' yer sister. That scar on your forehead isn't just some ordinary cut. That only 'appens when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh. Did its job on yer mum and dad, but you- nothing. No one ever lived once 'e decided ter kill him, best witches and wizards o' the age. No one except the two o' you. _You_ , Harry. I found the two o' yeh in the rubble of yer house, holding hands and crying. The scar on Rose's wrist seems to have happened from that, holding yer hand when it 'appened."

Rose found herself looking down at the white, raised scar on the inside of her wrist. Harry's always looked fresh, like it had happened a few days ago, hers was just a scar. She traced the raised outline of the lightning bolt absently. Her face suddenly felt cold and tight and she lifted a finger to her cheek. She was crying. Before hearing the story, when it was just a simple car crash that killed them, it seemed like just one of those awful things that happens to someone for no real reason. But now, she felt the loss. She used to have parents.

"What happened to Voldemort after that?" Rose asked.

Hagrid flinched violently. "Don't say the name! No one knows for sure what happened to him. He's disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill yeh. Some say he's died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Reckon he's still out there somewhere, bidin' his time. But, summat about you stumped him that night."

"I can't be a wizard," Harry said.

Rose frowned, knowing Harry's train of thought. That this had to be a mistake, just some horrible and depressing mistake. But Rose felt the opposite. It was like something clicked and her subconscious said, yes. I'm a witch. That's who I'm meant to be.

But for Harry, talking about the facts and proof in theory as they read the letter, was much different than it being confirmed by a strange giant with a pink umbrella.

"The glass," she said. "The glass at the zoo. Your hair when Aunt Petunia cuts it and it grows back overnight. What else could it be? This... this is real."

She took two small steps to him and took his hand. "What happens now?" She addressed Hagrid.

Uncle Vernon spoke for him. "You'll be staying here is what. You'll both be going to Stonewall and you'll be grateful for it! I've read that letter, spell books and wands and whatnot. It's foolishness."

"If they want to go," Hagrid said, "they'll go. And there's nothing you can do to stop it. Tryin' to stop James and Lily's children from going to Hogwarts, it's their birthright! They've had their names written since the day they were born. Seven years there and they'll be someone you won't even recognize. And they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumble-"

"I WILL NOT PAY TO HAVE SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!"

Rose knew he had to have gone too far at this point, and so did Harry as he squeezed her hand hard. Hagrid pulled out the umbrella and pointed it at Uncle Vernon as though it were a sword. "Never," he said in a calm voice, "Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me."

Hagrid glanced behind them and Rose followed his line of sight. Dudley had the box Hagrid had handed Harry. It was a cake. Hagrid had baked them a birthday cake. And Dudley was currently shoving it in his mouth by the fistful. An odd look crossed his face and a violet stream of light left his umbrella and hit Dudley on his bottom. He pranced around in a circle and upon his second rotation, Rose could see a curly pig's tail poking out of his trousers.

Aunt Petunia shrieked, Uncle Vernon roared, and he grabbed his wife and son, and pulled them into the bedroom- slamming the door behind them.

"Shouldn't a lost me temper like that," Hagrid said. "Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed ter do magic on account o' me getting' expelled from Hogwarts my third year."

* * *

She woke up underneath the moldy, scratchy blanket that Aunt Petunia had given her before Hagrid had shown up. Hagrid! Rose sat up suddenly, her red hair in a mess around her face. There he was, sitting up as Harry handed him a sort of newspaper. She gasped.

"Is that picture moving?"

Hagrid waved it off. "Wizarding pictures do that. It's the Muggle pictures that are strange. There's no life to them!"

He handed her and Harry both a page from it and she marveled over the moving pictures. She'd never seen anything like it. It played some man in a bowler hat making some sort of official looking statement. Lights flashed and then the scene started over. Cornelius Fudge, it said. Minister for Magic.

"Best be off, Rose. Harry. Lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer school stuff."

"But, Hagrid," Harry said. "We haven't any money... and, you heard Uncle Vernon. He won't pay for us to learn magic."

Hagrid looked alarmed at this, as though he wasn't sure what Harry was talking about. Then he seemed to understand. "Did you think yer parents left you nothin'?"

In all of her imaginings, it had never occurred to her that wizards would use banks. But, she also had never thought of moving pictures. She wondered what else she would find in this world. Unicorns. She hoped those were real. She'd always wanted to see one. If goblins were real, and ran the bank no less, why not?

"Got everythin'?" Hagrid asked.

"Please," a timid voice said behind Rose. It was Aunt Petunia in her house coat, pulling it tight around her like a shield. "Please don't go."

Rose felt conflicted. The way she always did about Aunt Petunia. But she loved her. Despite the lies, the mistreatment of Harry, and the fact that Rose was never sure if it was her she was seeing or Lily. But, she followed Hagrid and Harry out of the hut.

* * *

Dragons were real. Just like she'd wished. Harry had never been to London and though Rose had once with Aunt Petunia, she soaked everything up like a sponge. Much like she was with throwaway facts Hagrid gave them.

"Uh, Hagrid? Are you sure this is the place?"

He looked down where he towered over her. "'Course I'm sure. It's only one of the mos' famous places in our world."

She looked back to the rundown pub they stood outside of. The Leaky Cauldron, the hanging sign read. It looked like a marginally strong wind would blow the foundation over. The inside wasn't much better. It was shabby and dreary with creaky wooden tables and chairs. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in and everyone seemed to know Hagrid, smiling to him and waving.

"The usual, Hagrid?" The barkeep asked as he hand dried a shot glass.

"Can't, Tom. Hogwarts business."

"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter."

Before Rose knew what was going on, they were stuck in the middle of a crowd. People were seizing their hands and shaking them up and down enthusiastically. Harry and Rose Potter have returned, they said. It seemed an endless procession and Rose began trying to back away from them, feeling as though she might suffocate.

"Hello, Professor!" Hagrid greeted as a pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. "Didn't see you back there. Harry, Rose, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"Y-y-yes," the poor man stammered. "C-can't tell you h-h-how pleased I am to m-meet the t-two of you."

Rose felt bad for him. "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor?" Harry asked him.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," he muttered.

 _That seems ironic,_ Rose thought to herself.

"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself."

Then he was push/pulled away for the others to shake their hands some more. Thankfully, this round didn't last as long as the first and Hagrid put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Must get on. Lots ter buy."

He lead them out into an enclosed courtyard. Harry seemed to be just as alarmed as she was about the attention. "See?" Hagrid asked. "Yer both famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh. Mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Rose asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books, but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag- never been the same since. Scared of the students. Scared of his own subject."

Rose was about to ask about such creatures, not having noticed the tapping of the umbrella against the bricks. The wall fell away, the bricks going around and over each other in an attempt to create the opening. It was like some strange bazaar from a far away land. Like something out of a fantastical story. A large marketplace of shops and stands adorning the sides and an open cobblestone path going down the middle. Another thing. Until today she had never seen so many people crowded together.

"Rosie," Harry breathed.

"I know," she whispered back.

Hagrid lead them down the street and they both looked around nearly slack-jawed. Brooms. Witches and wizards flew on brooms. Owls, they sent letters by owls. They used cauldrons. There were all sorts of strange things they passed before coming to a snowy white building that overshadowed the others.

Gringotts.

* * *

"Listen, guys, d'you mind if I slip off to the Leaky Cauldron fer a pick-me-up? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Harry and Rose watched go. "Let's go get our robes," Harry said.

Rose gave him a begging look. "But, Harry, I saw a book store back there. Can't we go there first? Or, you get your robes while I get our books. Then while I get mine, you can get our other stuff. Multi tasking, right?"

"I don't know if we should split up, Ro. This is all new to us. What if one of us gets lost?"

"They are literally two doors down from each other, Harry. If you get done before I do, come find me and if I get done first, I'll find you."

He looked like he was about to refuse, but then nodded. "Okay, but be careful. Please be careful. If anyone strange tries to do anything to you, hit them. Like you did Piers that one time."

Rose grinned, hugged him, and ran the two doors down to Flourish and Blott's. It was weird that she hadn't known for sure anything until just the night before and now it was as if it was all she had ever known. Like she just knew this was where she was meant to be.

The place was huge with bookcases, upon bookcases, and stacked on other bookcases with long ladders and foot bridges to reach them. There were tables with books stacked in haphazard piles teetering and almost toppling. It all smelled of musty old parchment and candles, and she thought it was wonderful. Rose pulled the list of equipment out of her pocket and read over it, wandering around and wondering how anyone found anything in here.

She couldn't even find someone who worked here. There were people there, but she couldn't find anything even close to what was on the list. She did, however, find a few books that she grabbed because they looked like something that could be helpful to read. Then, she ran into a mass of brown bushy hair.

"Oh!" The other girl said. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Rose stood up and brushed herself off. "I'm fine. You?"

The girl smiled. "Are you going to Hogwarts as well? Do you know what House you'll be in? I assume you're a first year like me."

She seemed like the kind of person to jabber on and on until someone stopped her, but whoever she was, Rose just immediately liked her. So she smiled. "I _am_ going to be a first year, yes. I'm Rose."

"I'm Hermione Granger. Oh! I got that book too. Doesn't it sound just fascinating?" Hermione motioned to one of the books Rose held in her hand titled Hogwarts: A History. And she did indeed have that one as well. As well as the books on the list.

"Do you think you could show me where these are? I haven't had any luck."

Hermione perked up and smiled. "No problem, they're over here."

She jerked her head to the side and walked in that direction without seeing if Rose was following. Rose did. Maybe she had just met her first friend. She was lead through even more taller piles of books, like a forest of dead trees. Hermione certainly seemed to know her way around them when she stopped at a bookshelf.

"All of the first year books are right over here. They're kept together to make things easier on the students. Here's the Standard Book of Spells," she held it out to her.

Rose cleared off the end of a nearby table and set it there to start the stack. "Could you grab me another? I'm getting my brother's too while he gets his robes."

They retrieved all of the books on the list until the stack almost blended with the others. All the while, Hermione told her about herself. She was Muggleborn, her parents were dentists, she once toppled a bookcase over because she was climbing on it to get a book from the top. She told Rose about Houses at Hogwarts, relaying everything Hermione had been told by the professor who brought she and her parents to Diagon Alley.

Rose told her about learning her parents were magic, meeting Hagrid, but left out the story about Voldemort. It didn't seem right to bring up, especially when Rose still had unanswered questions. Why did Voldemort want war? That was a big one. Hagrid had said he was powerful, so why not enjoy being powerful and just live life without the war?

"Miss Granger?" A voice called through the jungle of books. "Your parents are looking for you."

An older woman appeared around one corner and stopped at the sight of Rose. Her face went white and something in Rose's stomach twisted. Was she going to have to get used to everyone seeing her mother when they looked at her? She could tell that's what it was. It was the same expression.

"Lily."

Rose cleared her throat lightly and held her hand out as she had done to Hermione. "I'm Rose," she said. "Lily was my mother."

"Yes," the woman mumbled under her breath. "Yes, that's it. You look so much like her. Severus is going to-" She cut herself off and straightened, her face relaxing into what Rose supposed was her normal face. "I taught your mother. She was a good friend. I'm Professor McGonagall."

Rose beamed at recognizing the name. "You wrote my letter."

"Yes. I am the Deputy Headmistress as well as the Gryffindor Head of House. Both of your parents were in my House."

Gryffindor. "She also teaches Transfiguration," Hermione said. "She turned my tea cup into a rat."

"That is so wicked," Rose said. She wanted to see more magic. She wanted to see all of it- know the things magic could do. Know the things it couldn't.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall smiled at her. "I suppose it is. Now, Miss Granger, I must get you back to your parents. And, Rose, _you_ must get back to your brother and Hagrid."

"Yes, ma'am," Rose nodded.

She turned to Hermione to say something about maybe sitting together on the train there, but the girl surprised her by hugging her. When she pulled back, Hermione grinned. "I'm glad to have met my first friend, Rose."

Rose grinned back. She had a friend. "Me too."

Hagrid and Harry were standing outside the door when Rose left the book store. Harry handed her an ice cream cone where he was just finishing his. It was strawberry. Ironically, she supposed Aunt Petunia was right. She loved strawberry.

"I met the worst boy in there," Harry said under his breath. "He and Dudley would certainly have gotten along. I hope we don't have many classes with him."

Rose gave a sympathetic look. "I met a friend," she said. "You'll like her. And McGonagall from our letters. She's the Head of House for Gryffindor where our parents were."

"Head of House?"

* * *

"Just yer wands left," Hagrid said. "An' I still haven't gotten yeh birthday presents."

Both Rose and Harry reddened. "You don't have to do that," Rose stammered. Harry nodded his agreement.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animals. Not a toad, toads went out of fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at- an' I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yeh both an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

So, they entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. It was dark and Rose could feel jewel like eyes watching them from the moment the stepped in from all around. She'd never seen an owl up close before, most especially not such tame ones who seemed to all puff their chests out in hopes of being chosen. Beautiful birds that made Rose wonder why Muggles didn't use post by owl as well.

She passed Harry, who was having a moment with a lovely snowy owl, and more towards the back. She'd never realized there were so many different breeds of owls. Her feet took her to a large cage that was somewhat rusty. A lot of the cages were a bit rusty, that didn't make her stop. Nor was it the size, she'd passed larger. Ones she and Harry both could have fit in together with room for a triplet. No, it was the bird. He had gray feathers and big blue eyes, with some sort of film over them that made it look as though you were staring into the night sky. Stars. Like a hundred stars. He didn't look at her when she laid a hand against the cage, but she knew he was hers.

"He's blind, miss," a voice said from her left. She jumped and looked over to see a foul looking man with an even fouler stench surrounding him like a cloud.

His words caught up to her and it saddened her, but didn't make her lose that sense of rightness. This owl was right for. This owl was meant for her. "I don't care," she said.

"Just as well," the man sniffed. "If you're set on that one, I'll be glad to get rid of it. No one ever wants the thing. Shoulda fed it to a snake with it hatched."

Rose glared at him and looked back to the gray owl. Then, she gently unlatched his cage and carefully put her hand out to pet him. He was softer than he looked, which was saying something, because he _looked_ like Aunt Petunia's nice velvet gown that she wore on special occasions. He pushed back against her fingers, obviously enjoying the affection, and her heart was won over all over again.

"He's mine," she said in an awed whisper. The owl hooted as if agreeing with that sentiment. And he was hers.

* * *

The next stop, and the last, was a wand. Rose could tell that this was what Harry had been looking forward to the most. He grinned the whole way to the shop that read, 'Ollivanders', and they opened the heavy door with the jingling of a bell somewhere in the distance. Hagrid sat down in the lone chair to wait, and Rose didn't envy him the rickety looking thing. Rose felt like, with all of the wonderful things she had seen that day, this was the most magical. She could feel it there, like a secret.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said.

Harry jumped, and Rose felt like she should have too, but she didn't. A reasonably tall, old man stood before them, amidst the neatly stacked thin boxes that reached to the ceiling, with wide, pale eyes shining like moons in the dark shop.

"Hello," Harry said awkwardly. Rose echoed it.

"Ah yes," the man said. "I wondered when I'd be seeing the two of you here, Harry and Rose Potter. You look so like your parents. It seems only yesterday they were here buying their first wands. Your mothers; ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. And your fathers; eleven inches, pliable mahogany."

He peered at Harry's forehead with a distant expression. "And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did that. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, but in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He then spotted Hagrid and greeted him. Harry and Rose shared a look and she decided that, secret magic or not, she was eager to leave.

"Well, now," Ollivander said at last. "Shall we have ladies first?" He walked over to Rose, pulling out a long tape measure with silver markings. "Which is your wand arm?"

Wand arm? "Well, I'm left-handed, sir."

He smiled warmly and measured her from shoulder to shoulder, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around her head. She could see Harry looking on in amusement and Hagrid not looking as though it were anything out of the ordinary. Then, as the tape measure measured between her nostrils, Ollivander explained about wands. No two were alike. Then he mentioned unicorn hair and she found herself in awe. Unicorns were real.

"Right then, Miss Potter," he said suddenly. He went over to a stack and slipped one out carefully. They weren't on shelves or anything, she realized. They were just stacked. "Try this one. Ten inches, acacia wood and unicorn hair."

He gently held it out for her to take, and she took it from him just as carefully. Then she wasn't sure what to do, looking at it expectantly. "Give it a wave, child." He told her softly.

She waved with it, and a stream of orange light shot into the back rooms and they heard a loud crash. Ollivander cringed and took it back from her hastily. "No, no, no. Definitely not... let's see. Ah! Yes, yes, let's try this one."

He held another out to her and she took it from him, this time being more careful about where she was aiming it. She pointed it at a downward slant, waving just barely. And she watched as a flower grew- from the floorboard! She looked back to Ollivander, who was smiling with a small quirk of the corner of his mouth.

"Twelve and a half inches," he said. "Willow and dragon heartstring, slightly springy. It seems as though this wand has chosen you, Miss Potter."

Rose looked down at the wand, her wand, in awe. She had a wand. She could do magic. It felt warm in her hand and she rubbed her thumb on the small ridges in the wood as Harry was measured. Willow, wasn't that what he said her mother's wand was made of? It was brilliant. Beautiful. She loved willow trees.

"Tricky customer, eh?" She heard Ollivander ask. She turned to see the large pile of wands for the 'no' pile. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took it, and with it, made a fantastic display of red and gold sparks. Hagrid clapped and cheered and Rose grinned at him. "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious."

Rose frowned and Harry looked over to her. "Sorry, but what's curious?" They both asked at the same time.

He took their wands, slipping them back in their boxes and wrapping them in brown paper. "I remember every wand I ever sold, my dear Potters. Every one. It just so happens, that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand- gave another feather. Just, one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

Rose could see Hagrid's face pale a bit at this and she could relate. It was somewhat alarming to think about. But maybe, one day, Harry will do something amazing. Something amazing enough, to make up for the sins of his wand's brother.

 **A/N: Hope you guys like this! Next chapter, we will be meeting Draco. And I can promise her meeting him is going to be much different than her brother's introduction to him. How do you guys think Severus will react to seeing Rose? Also, what did you think of her meeting Hermione and McGonagall? What do you think of hers and Petunia's relationship? My husband hates Harry Potter, and even more the Dursley's, but he always helps me proof read. He keeps telling me to stop making him feel sorry for Petunia.**

 **If it helps at all, I think of a redhead Lily Collins as Rose's face claim. Dasvidanya, Juliet.**


	3. Draco

Chapter Three: Draco

It was tense. Harry and Rose went back to the Dursleys and Private Drive after the wonderment that had been Diagon Alley with a new sense of bitterness. They had been introduced to the Wizarding World. Now they were ready to go to Hogwarts. Especially when, now, neither of them could walk into the same room as Dudley without him running away screaming. Uncle Vernon tried to ignore their existence. Aunt Petunia couldn't look at Rose, she couldn't look at anyone, spending a lot of time looking down.

So, they spent a lot of time in their room; each on their respective beds, with both owls flying happily in and out of the room. Oberon, which is what she named her owl, seemed perfectly fine to do so. He'd do that a few times with Hedwig and then fly to her for petting. She would almost say he wasn't blind. She kept fearing that he would miss the window and crash into the side of the house, but he kept surprising her.

Rose thought of Hermione, and hoped very much to be able to see her on the train ride there. She hoped desperately that she'd be in Gryffindor, learn more about her parents. She wanted to see a picture of her mother, wanted to see the face everyone else saw when they looked at her. She wanted to live the life her mother should have lived long enough to have. She sighed at how dark her own thoughts were.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered her brother. "I'm just tired. I'm gonna call it a night."

Rose tucked her wand underneath her pillow, wanting to keep it close in excitement of having it.

* * *

The last day of August, Rose and Harry went downstairs thinking it was probably a good idea to ask about how they would get to King's Cross the next day. Dudley ran screaming from the room when they walked into it. Their aunt and uncle didn't look up until Harry cleared his throat. They'd agreed ahead of time that he would be doing the talking.

"Uncle Vernon?" He asked. The man grunted something of a response. "We need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to go to Hogwarts."

She would hand it to him... he didn't slip over his words the way he was afraid he would. She commended him.

"Funny way to get to a wizard's school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they? Where is this school anyway?"

"Scotland," Rose answered. She had read that in Hogwarts: A History.

Uncle Vernon didn't say anything for a few minutes, but screwed his face up in a sort of silent anger. Then, "You're lucky we're going to London tomorrow anyway."

"Why are you going to London," Harry asked in a pleasant tone.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," Uncle Vernon growled. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings." Rose bit back a grin before he snapped at her. "You mind yourself, girl!"

Aunt Petunia looked up at this and over to Rose with an indescribable expression as Harry pulled Rose to back upstairs.

* * *

They set their alarm, which had once been Dudley's before he broke it, for seven the next morning. But Rose was up long before that. She checked over her trunk again to be sure she wasn't leaving anything important behind. Then she proceeded to check again every hour. And then every half hour. And then Harry woke up.

They arrived at King's Cross near ten and Uncle Vernon tossed their trunks on to a cart each. He would have handled Hedwig and Oberon just as harshly, but Rose and Harry were quick to grab them first. Dudley stayed in the car and Uncle Vernon was about to get back in it when Aunt Petunia's door opened and she stepped out.

Rose straightened a little, still loving her aunt. Still wanting her aunt and way things had been to stay that way. Or, improve. She wanted them to improve. Aunt Petunia stepped to in front of Rose and stopped. And she handed her something.

A picture frame. She really did look like her mother. It was a picture of Lily when she looked to be about Rose's age, with a young Petunia and a boy with long black hair and a beaked nose. She could see why everyone was so alarmed. Rose was a bit unnerved as well.

"Please be careful, Rose," Aunt Petunia whispered. And then, she did to Rose what no one else aside from Harry and Hermione had ever done. She hugged her.

It was a tight embrace that lasted about five seconds before Aunt Petunia hastily let go of her and got back in the car. Harry and Rose watched her go and went inside. They walked all along the platforms looking for Platform 9 1/3 without any luck. According to the clocks, they had ten minutes to board the train.

"-every year, packed with Muggles-"

Rose and Harry perked up at this. Someone from the Wizarding World. Presumably, someone going to Hogwarts and would therefore know how to get to the train. The speaker was a plump woman leading a band of four boys just as redheaded as Rose, they each had their carts and trunks same as Harry and Rose one of them even had an owl. Rose nodded to Harry and they moved to follow them, just close enough to hear.

"Now then," the mother said. "What's the platform number?"

"Platform nine and three quarters," a small girl said, also redheaded. "Mom, can't I go?"

"Next year, Ginny," the woman promised. "You're too young. Now, Percy, you go first."

Harry and Rose approached the group, standing at the back. The older of the four boys, the one with the owl, marched toward the wall between platforms nine and ten. And then he disappeared behind it. Rose grinned. She loved magic.

"Fred, you next."

"He's not Fred, I am." Apparently there were twins, these ones identical, unlike Harry and Rose, who were not. "Honestly, woman. You call yourself our mother."

The woman sighed tiredly. "Oh, sorry, George."

The grinning boy, who looked a few years older than them, lined his cart with the wall. "Only joking. I am Fred."

Then he ran through the barrier, followed by his twin. Rose figured the last son would be next and then the mom and daughter. There was nothing for it. "Excuse me," Harry said, approaching the woman.

"Hello, dears," the woman turned her warming smile to them. "First year at Hogwarts? It's Ron's first time as well."

She pointed to the youngest of her boys. He was tall and gangling with freckles and big hands and feet. He smiled awkwardly with a slight wave. Rose and Harry smiled back.

"Well," Rose said. "You see the thing is, we don't-"

"Know how to get onto the platform?" She asked kindly. They both nodded. "Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between chapters nine and ten. Don't stop and be scared that you might run into it, that's very important. Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. You two can go before Ron."

Harry nodded at Rose to go first, obviously and understandably alarmed at being told to run into a brick wall. Rose lined her cart up with it, Oberon hooted what seemed to be an encouragement, and ran into the wall. She closed her eyes waiting for the crash, but all she felt was a rush of chilly air and nothing. Then Harry was behind her and they were both looking at a long, scarlet train with the words, Hogwarts Express, painted on the side in big black letters. Steam poured out of the top and all sorts of animals were interweaving with the chattering crowd.

The front few carriages were full with kids fighting over each other for seats, and a few hanging halfway out of the window to say good bye to their parents. Harry and Rose looked around wildly, wanting to soak up everything there was. They found an empty compartment near the end of the train and Harry and Rose tried in vain to get their trunks through the train door. No luck.

"Want a hand?" A boy asked. It was one of the twins that been a part of the redhead family. He was looking right at her.

"Yes, please," she said.

He turned his head to call behind him. "Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

So the one talking to her was George. He sort of smelled like fresh grass. He motioned for her to step away while he, his brother, and her brother, moved Rose and Harry's trunks. Rose tried not to smirk at her brother's obvious distress.

"Thanks," he said afterwards, wiping sweat from his forehead and leaving his scar on display.

"What's that?" One of the twins asked suddenly. It had to be Fred. He smelled like pine, rather than grass. He was pointing to Harry's scar.

"Blimey," George said. "Are you-"

"He is," Fred told him. Then to Harry, "Aren't you?"

Harry looked to me in confusion. "What?"

"Harry Potter," they both chorused. Then George looked to her. "And you'd be Rose."

Both gawked at the two of them until a voice floated into the compartment calling for them. They hopped off the train, after George winking at Rose, and Harry led her to their seats. They could hear out of the window as the twins told their mother about meeting her and her brother. It sounded strange to listen to a family such as these people. They were so much different than listening to the Dursleys.

"Now, you two," the mother was telling the twins. "This year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've- you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea, mom. Thanks."

Rose smirked. That sounded fun, in some weird way. But, all she was worried about was doing her school work and staying out of trouble. And, finding Hermione maybe. Had she read the material? She probably had. She struck Rose as that type of person.

The train began to move and a whistle blew loudly. Rose felt this wave of nauseous excitement at what was happening. They were really doing this. The door to the compartment opened and the youngest boy of that redheaded family stepped in. "D'you guys mind? Everywhere else is full."

Harry nodded and the boy sat down next to him. The boy, Ron, kept glancing to Harry and Rose and then away quickly to hide that he had.

"Ron."

The twins had come back, Fred cramming beside Ron and Harry on their side, and George lounging beside Rose with a grin. "Listen," Fred slapped Ron's back. "we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

Ron mumbled something, but his face had gone pale. The other twin, George, nodded to both of them. "Harry, Rose," he said. "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is our brother, Ron. See you later then."

And then, they were gone just as quickly as they came. "Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted as the door shut. Harry nodded. "Oh. Well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. And, have you really got the-"

"The what?"

"The scar," he whispered almost scandalously. Harry moved his hair aside to show it. "Wicked," Ron grinned.

They began talking to each other and Rose stared absently out the window as trees and houses. They talked about Ron's family, apparently they were all magic, and the Dursleys. She wasn't jealous that her brother was so famous in this new world, or maybe, in some dark part of her heart she was. It was that this new friend her brother had seemed to make seemed to care an awful lot about her brother being Harry Potter. Not just Harry. She was fighting the urge to go searching the train for Hermione, or even the strange twins. But, she stayed out of it, or more, they inadvertently kept her out, but nonetheless, she said nothing until she heard Voldemort's name.

"You said You-Know-Who's name," Ron gasped. "I'd have thought you of all people-"

"What's wrong with saying the name?" Rose asked. "It's kind of a silly reason to avoid someone's name just out of fear. Ignoring the name out of fear only makes you fear the person more. You're breeding it."

Ron looked to her sharply and his ears turned red. There was a clattering outside of the compartment, and the door opened to reveal a snack cart being pushed by a smiling, dimpled woman. It was after noon, about fifteen after, if she had to guess and she was usually good at such things.

"Anything off the cart, dears?

Rose grinned, neither her nor Harry having had breakfast that morning, but Ron's ears went red again and he muttered something about sandwiches. She suddenly, looking at his embarrassed face, felt guilty for thinking such thoughts about him moments before. Harry stood to go to the cart and Rose followed him, eager to see what sort of things they had.

Mars Bars was a bust, which was unfortunate because she knew they were Harry's favorite. Luckily, they had licorice- which was Rose's. And these things called pumpkin pasties. She loved pumpkin. She saw Harry grab something labeled as Chocolate Frogs and screwed her face up. She didn't like chocolate. They each grabbed extra, piling it into Harry's shirt and letting the lady continue with her round. Then they both dumped it onto the space beside where Rose had been sitting.

"Hungry, are you?" Ron asked.

"Starving," Harry said, taking a pumpkin pasty. Rose grinned, taking a bite of licorice.

Ron took out a lumped package from his pocket. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and frowned. "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one," Harry said, holding up another pasty.

"You don't want this," Ron said. "It's all dry. She hasn't got much time, you know, with the five of us."

Rose threw a pasty at him, hitting his chest. "Just eat the bloody thing," she said teasingly.

The slight tension that had been creeping in, though she'd admit it had mostly been her, dissipated with the passing of different treats. Ron explained each one through Chocolate Frogs, _gross_ , and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean, not on your life.

Then there was a knock at the door and a round, tearful faced boy came in. Rose vaguely remembered she and Harry passing him on platform nine and three quarters.

"Sorry," he said. "But, have any of you seen a toad at all?" When they all shook their heads he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me."

"He'll turn up," Harry said.

The boy sniffed and nodded. "Yes, well, if you see him."

"Don't know why he's so bothered. If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

Scabbers was an unfortunate and sickly looking rat that Ron had sleeping on his lap. Rose didn't like the tone he had when talking about the boy. She should have offered to help him find his toad. She was about to get up and go try when the door opened again.

"Hermione!" Rose exclaimed. The boy was with her that had lost his toad.

"Rose," Hermione smiled. "I was looking for you earlier. Have any of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Rose shook her head, but her heart swelled at the idea that her new friend had been looking for her. She grinned and stood up. "No, we haven't seen his toad, but, I'll help you both look for him. Harry, this is my friend I was telling you about, Hermione. Hermione, this is my brother, Harry."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Harry and Rose _Potter_?"

Rose blushed and nodded. "Yeah."

"You're in Modern Magical History and Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. I know Rose and Harry's parents were in Gryffindor, but do any of you know what House you'll be in yet? I've been asking around and I hope maybe to get into Gryffindor. Maybe Rose and I can be there together, but I suppose Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad either. Anyway, we'd better go look for Neville's toad."

Hermione left with Neville and Rose told her she'd be right out. As soon as she left Ron said, "What ever House I'm in, I hope she's not."

Rose glared. "Hermione's really nice."

"That's all well and good," Ron said, "but annoying. Can you imagine having to listen to her talking in your ear all the time?"

Rose waited for Harry to say something, but he didn't. She glared at him too. "Then whatever House _you're_ in, I hope I'm not. You're a bully, Ronald Weasley."

She left to get changed into her robes before going off to look for Neville's toad. She briefly had the thought that what if his wasn't the only one lost and his wasn't the one she found, but, honestly, how many toads could there be?

So she went compartment door to compartment door looking for the toad that she had no idea what it looked like. She'd never even seen a toad before. What was the difference between a toad and a frog? What if she grabbed a frog thinking it was his toad? What if some mean person, perhaps that monstrous boy Harry had told her about, found the toad before they did and threw it out a window for the helpless thing to be crushed under the train. Flattened. Pulverized. Macerated! Oh, the humanity!

It was following this depressing, and slightly over dramatic, line of thought that caused her to bump into someone and fall. There was a chuckle and Rose looked up. It was a boy a few years older than she, perhaps the Weasley twins' age, with golden brown hair and a striking jawline.

"Are you okay?" He asked, holding his hand out to help her up. She took it gratefully and stood, brushing off her new uniform. He was in his and so was the short, pretty girl behind him with long dark hair and a glare aimed at Rose.

"I'm fine," she told him, wanting to get on with her search before the poor toad could suffer an untimely death. "I think my pride is more bruised than I am."

He laughed like she had told a joke and she chuckled nervously along wondering where that had come from. She wasn't a witty sort of person. At least, she didn't _think_ she was. Could someone accurately know the kind of person they were? Or was that something someone else had to tell them so it wouldn't be biased?

"I like that," he said. "You look out for yourself."

He smiled at her and she smiled back, waving awkwardly. The girl that had been with him looked back with a nasty expression, but Rose kept going. No one had seen a toad. She was distraught. She had failed. That poor toad, pounded into a bloody, pulpy mess by the heavy wheels of the train. She opened another compartment to find a boy who looked like he was in her year. He was reading alone.

"Excuse me," she said. "Have you seen a toad? My friend Neville's lost one."

"No," the boy sneered, not looking up from his book. "Any student ridiculous enough to have brought a toad is asking for the dumb thing to get lost."

Rose frowned. "That's rude. I asked a simple question. Your no would have been enough of an answer."

The pale boy looked up when she said this and his face dropped from it's look of disdain and into something else she didn't have a name for. "You're right," he said. Then he frowned at himself, as though that wasn't what he had opened his mouth to say. "I'm sorry."

Rose sighed and took it upon herself to drop in the seat across from him. "What if someone's taken the toad," she asked desperately and trying to keep the lump out of her throat. "What if he's dead? Thrown from the train like a worthless being and never getting a chance to see Neville again. Neville, who has been searching the train and gathering help along the way in hopes of finding his beloved toad. What if, because he never finds his toad, Neville never gets another pet? And in never getting over the loss of his toad, he lost all of his friends because he couldn't stop talking about it? Then he grows up to be an old, bitter man with no family, no friends, and a really bad painting of a toad hanging over his fireplace."

"You do realize," he asked, "that that's like the worst case scenario? That's insane."

She looked up with tears in her eyes and he was looking at her like she had suddenly sprouted a second head. Could that actually happen in the Wizarding World? "Y-you're probably just stressed. It's your first year, right? Mine too. Maybe you just need to relax and stop imagining insane things that probably would never actually happen."

Rose didn't know what had come over her. Of course the toad was just fine. This boy was right. She was just stressed. That was it. "Thank you," she told him earnestly. "I'm Rose."

"And I'm Malfoy," he said. "Draco Malfoy."

That was a strange name, but she didn't say so. Maybe in the Wizarding World it wasn't, and she didn't want to look stupid by saying it was. "Is that Hogwarts: A History?" She asked, pointing to the book he had been reading when she came in.

He looked down at it. "Yes. Did you know that the ceiling of the Great Hall is charmed-"

"To look like the sky?" She finished. "Isn't that amazing? There are supposed to be untold secret passages and things. Just think about how cool it could be to find one."

Draco grinned at her. "I haven't gotten that far, but I'll certainly be looking for them. Be able to get around easier than everyone and no one knowing how? Places to hide when you just want a minute to yourself."

"Have secret meetings with friends like some sort of club," she smiled. "Be able to find shortcuts. Or, just knowing secret passages, even if you don't tell anyone or do anything with them, it's pretty wicked."

"If I find one," he said, "I'll tell you about it."

"And vice versa," she promised. "We can go looking for them together."

He nodded. "I heard the Transfiguration professor is an Animagus. Her form is a tabby cat and she spies on students. When they do something she doesn't like, she hexes them."

"Professor McGonagall would never!" She laughed. "I met her in Diagon Alley. She was really nice."

"Really," Draco asked. "You know her well enough to say she would never do that?"

"Well, she did seem like she could be pretty scary if she wanted to be. She's also the deputy headmistress and the Gryffindor Head of House."

"Do you know what House you'll be in yet?"

She wasn't sure why, but she got the feeling that her possible friendship with this person hinged on what her answer was. And like when she met Hermione, she knew she wanted to be friends with this boy. "I don't know," she said. "My parents were in Gryffindor, but I don't feel like I'm all that brave enough to get there."

"Hey, who cares in you're not in stinking Gryffindor? I bet you'll be in Slytherin with me. That's where all the best people are. We'll get into Slytherin together."

"I hope so. I want to be in the same House as a friend, but I don't want to be in the same House as my brother's new friend. He's been a bit of a tosser. What's Slytherin like?"

Draco closed his book and set it down. Then he sat back into the bench seat with a smile that told her he was about to tell her. "Both of my parents were in Slytherin and both of their families for generations as long as anyone can remember. It's our legacy." His face fell a bit. "But, what if I don't get into Slytherin? I don't even know how they'll react."

But his face said that he knew exactly how they would react. She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. "Of course you'll get into Slytherin," she told him. "They'd go spare if you didn't, not being able to have you?"

"Thanks, Rose."

"Draco, we're... friends. Right?" She felt ridiculous for asking, like being picked last on some team at her old school. But then she couldn't stop talking. "Like, we'll still be friends? Even if we get into different Houses?"

He looked thoughtful. Then he smiled. "Of course we will," he said. "But we'll be in the same House. I promise."

The train slowed down and an echoing voice through the train told everyone they would be there in five minutes. To leave their luggage on the train to be taken in separately. _This is it,_ she thought to herself.

"I hope Oberon is okay."

"Oberon?" Draco asked.

"He's my owl."

Draco's face lit up. "I brought an owl too. His name is Proteus. Maybe we can owl each other secret notes. Times to meet to look for the secret passages."

Rose shook her head. "I can use my brother's owl," she said. "Oberon is blind. I mean, he seems to get around just fine anyway- and he can certainly fly, but, I don't know about sending letters."

"You could try to get him to send one," he suggested.

"But what if he tries and he gets hurt? I couldn't do that."

"Why did you get a blind owl if he can't deliver letters?"

She could tell he wasn't being rude, or, he wasn't trying to be, he was genuinely confused at the prospect. "Because he's special. I saw him, and I just know that he's special. He doesn't have to be able to deliver letters. I love him."

"He's an owl," Draco said as they both went out into the corridor, where everyone had come out of their compartment and was waiting to get off of the train.

Rose rolled her eyes. "I know he's an owl, but he's my owl. And I love him. Animals can feel love, I think."

Draco looked at her, still in confusion, but with a small smile. They ambled down the steps of the train, Draco first and holding a hand to help Rose down. She hoped Harry wasn't worried as she realized she'd been talking to Draco for an hour at least. Or Hermione. She hoped they found Neville's toad. Oh no! Neville's toad! How could she have forgotten-

"I'm sure the toad is fine," Draco told her as though he'd read her thoughts. "You said there were at least three of you looking? Someone will have found it."

"Thanks," she whispered.

"Firs' years!" A familiar booming voice called. "Firs' years over here!"

Rose grinned and pulled Draco through the sea of students towards Hagrid. They were all following him now down a narrow path. "Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder. "Jus' around this bend here."

Rose gasped at the sight. A vast castle across a great black lake, every window lit up as though saying, "Welcome home." No. That was Draco that had said that, standing next to her with his own look of awe aimed towards the castle. This was Hogwarts.

"No more'n four to a boat," Hagrid called, pointing to a small army of little boats sitting near the shore. Rose looked at Draco at the same time he looked at her, both looks making sure they were sitting together. They climbed into a wobbly boat along with a sort of dreamy girl and an intense looking boy with a stoic face. Draco seemed to know him, but looked away very peculiarly. "Everyone in? Right then- FORWARD!"

All at once, the boats moved in sync across the lake- gliding across the glassy smooth surface. No one spoke, all staring up at the castle in anticipation and anxiety. At least, the students from the other boats were. The other girl in their boat, with long, dirty blonde hair to her waist, had a sort of serene smile. The boy was maintaining his stoicism with only a tense twitching in his jaw where it was clenched too tight.

"Heads down," Hagrid yelled as first boats reached the cliff. They all ducked their heads a little to go under the curtain of ivy, hiding a wide opening in the cliff face. They followed a dark tunnel that seemed to take them under the castle and to an underground harbor. Everyone clambered out of the boats and to the rocks and pebbles of the ground.

"You there," Hagrid said, "is this your toad?"

Rose sagged in relief, knowing for sure that she had a gray hair somewhere, and Draco gave her a look that very plainly said, I told you so. Neville took his toad, which she found to be named Trevor, and they all walked up a short flight of stairs to approach the castle. Hagrid knocked three times.

"That's Professor McGonagall," Rose whispered to Draco.

McGonagall seemed to hear her and glanced to where she was with a smile in her eyes. Then, she looked to Draco whom Rose had said that too, and looked a bit startled. Hagrid left, leaving them in McGonagall's capable hands. Paws? Could people really turn into animals? Rose felt like she'd never look at animals the same.

They all followed, this large group of about forty, the woman through a grand entrance hall. She wondered if Aunt Petunia would still hate the Wizarding World if she could see this. Perhaps she could send pictures. Then Aunt Petunia would understand. They stopped outside of a door where they could hear what sounded like hundreds of voices, droning in conversation on the other side of the door.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because..."

Rose felt guilty that she kept zoning out of McGonagall's obviously well rehearsed speech, but she kept looking around. She kept thinking about how they were sorted. It hadn't been in Hogwarts: A History, but apparently that was because it was tradition for new students not to know. Parents rarely told their children and outrageous stories were to be encouraged. Even Draco didn't know. She hoped it wasn't a test. She was pants at tests and always timed out of them because her mind kept wandering.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Rose had the sudden thought that she looked like a tragedy, which was something Aunt Petunia said when they had company or when she was feeling particularly anxious. Especially when Uncle Vernon's sister was over. She smoothed out her skirt and straightened her robes. She could see others doing the same thing. Draco wasn't, though he looked like he wanted to.

Someone behind her screamed. Rose and Draco turned to find about twenty ghosts streaming through the wall. They were just how she thought they'd be, having read about them; pearly white and slightly transparent. They didn't seem to even notice the first years gawking at them as they talked among themselves. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance..."

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

The ghost wearing a ruff and tights had noticed them, but no one said anything. "New students!" the Fat Friar said, smiling at them all. "Waiting to be Sorted, I suppose. Hope to see you in Hufflepuff."

"Move along," McGonagall told them, coming back. The ghosts all floated away through the opposite wall they entered. "Now form a line," she told the first years, "and follow me."

Rose was nudged here and there by the others all eager to make the line and take their place in it. Draco grabbed her and pulled her into the line in front of him. She was glad for it, feeling like her feet had melted into the floor to stick there. They walked behind McGonagall as she led them through double doors, and into an even grander sight than the Entrance Hall.

Thousands of candles lit the Great Hall, floating over four long tables where the rest of the students sat. Each table was lined with glittering golden plates and cups that looked like chalices. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat. There was one face that looked vaguely familiar, staring at her with the expression of someone who knew her mother. It was a stunned look, a frozen look, a heartbroken look that jolted her and made her recoil. She wondered if he was the boy in the picture Aunt Petunia gave her.

McGonagall led them to stand in front of the students and when Rose looked back to the man who had been looking at her, his head was turned away. "That's my godfather," Draco whispered when he saw her look. "He's the Head of Slytherin. He teaches Potions. Look at the ceiling."

Rose looked where he was pointing and smiled. The ceiling looked like the night sky, thousands of stars shining along with the candles and it was difficult to imagine there was a roof at all. It seemed to her that each sight she had seen since learning of magic was more spectacular than the last.

McGonagall placed a four legged stool in front of them, and a ragged pointed hat on top of it. It seemed as though the rest of the hall watched it in waiting, though she wasn't sure what they were waiting on. Until it started singing. Rose's eyes grew wide and she grinned, looking over to Draco who was staring at the hat with wide eyes of his own.

When it's song was done, the entire hall applauded. Rose clapped too, but wasn't sure how she felt about a hat poking around inside her head. That sounded worse than a potentially fail-able test. What if the hat didn't like what it found? It seemed like everyone else was relieved it was just a hat. Until Draco whispered in her ear.

"We're just supposed to allow this thing to get inside our head?"

Rose felt better that it wasn't just her that seemed to hate the idea. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long list and cleared her throat. "Now, when I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted. Abbot, Hannah!"

Hannah Abbot, a pink faced girl with blonde pigtails, was sorted into Hufflepuff along with Susan Bones. Terry Boot was sorted into Ravenclaw with Mandy Brocklehurst, Lavender Brown to Gryffindor, Millicent Bulstrode to Slytherin, Justin Finch-Fletchley to Hufflepuff, so on and so on.

Hermione got into Gryffindor the way she wanted, as did Neville Longbottom, and Rose felt torn. She had wanted this whole time to go into Gryffindor like her parents. With them. But, now she liked the idea of going into Slytherin with Draco. She really liked that idea. And though Draco had promised her they'd still be friends if they weren't Sorted together, Rose had read about the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. She learned that the girl who had sat in the same boat as she and Draco, had the name of Luna Lovegood. And she was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Soon, Draco's name was called.

He smiled at Rose before he walked up there, exaggerating his steps and making her bite back a laugh. His smile had held the promise of, I'll see you later. But, in spite of his earlier fear, the hat had barely hovered over his head before calling out, "SLYTHERIN!"

She clapped for him and his eyes met her with a smile. She felt jittery now, not having Draco up there with her. She was too far to get to Harry without calling attention to herself, and that was the last thing she needed. Rose rubbed her palms on her robes, glancing back desperately to where Draco had taken his seat at the far table of green and silver. He gave her a reassuring nod and she looked back to the stool where her brother's name was being called.

The Great Hall went silent. Rose could hear people whispering her brother's name as he stepped up to the Sorting Hat. Like with the others, she couldn't hear whatever the hat was saying to him, but it was obvious that the hat was saying something. Harry was up there for longer than anyone else, and Rose was starting to get anxious, when the voice said, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Great. Now it was between Harry, Hermione, and Neville... and Draco, who she felt closer to in such the short time than she did with the others aside from Harry. Maybe it was on par with Harry. Gryffindor or Slytherin, and she was up next.

"Potter, Rose."

There were more whispers, though not as many as with Harry, and Rose forced her legs to go forward to the stool. She climbed onto the stool and felt Professor McGonagall perch the hat on her head. And it came to life, startling her.

 _"_ _And Miss Potter as well,"_ a voice said. The hat. _"Yes, your brother's mind was interesting. Not to worry, girl, they're all interesting in their own way. Yours, yes, yours will be tricky. I could put you in Hufflepuff. You're loyal, dangerously loyal, you'd fit in. And then there's Gryffindor."_

Rose felt a sting at not being able to go to Slytherin with Draco.

 _"_ _Yes, I am sorry about that, dear, but I simply cannot put you somewhere you wouldn't belong. It would be blasphemous, you see. Now, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. This will be the question. Though, for your purposes, better be-_ GRYFFINDOR!"

She caught sight of Draco's face and sent an apologizing look. He looked just as disappointed and slightly hurt. Then she realized, she'd never told him her last name.

* * *

Severus knew exactly who the Potter twins were. How could he not, with James Potter's spawn strutting in through the double doors of the Great Hall. Then, Lily's daughter came in beside Draco and it was obvious Draco had made a friend. She looked just like Her. It was like he had momentarily gone back twenty years to his own Sorting. He wondered if this could have been what his own daughter with Lily would have looked like.

He saw the look Draco gave her when his name was called. It was the same promising look She had given Severus that day. The promise of eternal friendship. And then the girl looked over to him in fear, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would be in Gryffindor. She looked much too much like Her not to have enough of her personality to get there.

And then, Rose was called. It almost made Severus smile. Lily had complained endlessly when they were young, about the tradition in her family to name the daughter's after flowers. Severus had disagreed. He always thought it rather lovely, not that he would say that to anyone other than her. But, she had gone on and on about flower names that she had hated. Starting with her own.

Severus had told her he liked Rose.

He hoped that if Draco, in all his stubbornness, was going to try and stay friends with her- that he had better luck than Severus had. If not, he was in for heartbreak. And Severus knew all about heartbreak.

 **A/N: Let me know what you think of Rose and Draco's first meeting! I personally, really like it. I have big plans for the two of them. Doesn't Severus just break your heart? He always does mine. I love him. Unfortunately, my Pop figurine of him was eaten by my Beagle. She couldn't have eaten Sirius or Hermione, no. She had to eat Severus. Anyway, two weeks until my drive to Washington. I miss it.**

 **Like I said, enough jabbering on- my bad. I have big plans ready for Draco and Rose. He is not about to like that shock that she is Harry Potter's sister. Next chapter, she officially meets Snape. Wonder how that's going to go? Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions? Dasvidanya, Juliet.**


End file.
